Play Dead
by daysdawning
Summary: As a hybrid, Harry Evans is a breathing magical wonder: the result of a witch impregnated by a Dementor. But now given the opportunity of a normal life can he repress his true nature or even his late night cravings? HP\LL


**Summary**: As a hybrid, Harry Evans is a breathing magical wonder: the result of a witch impregnated by a Dementor. But now given the opportunity of a normal life can he repress his true nature or even his late night cravings?

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter, never have and never will (which makes me so sad).

Play Dead

Prologue

_~ power to misconstrue, what have they done to you_

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It had turned into another one of those.

Harry Evans closes his eyes, yawns and drowns out the voice of his tutor. He finds it all terribly boring and the tutor, a rather old lady who probably fancies cats and old black and white movies, doesn't help as she babbles about the first war and about those lads that gave up their lives. His mother didn't fight the first war.

It's when he's bored that it comes out the most: his father's side. He doesn't want to tease his new teacher, but the temperature drops a few degrees lower and he sees her shiver, pulling on that wool patented jacket of hers. Her babbling becomes more and more distant as he slips away into his own thoughts.

He is just like any other fifteen year old, the only difference being that he isn't allowed with other fifteen year olds. Actually, he isn't around much people. It's a wonder he hasn't killed his guardian yet. He's gotten much better at controlling those cravings and sucking out happiness out of others – they still don't which side he takes after the most. He is a wizard, with his wand and having to learn boring history, but he is also part Dementor with pale skin and abnormally thin and with penchant to turn even the warmest room to below zero with a glance.

His schedule is rather boring a repetitive. Every morning, there is someone from the Ministry coming down to see if he's killed anybody. Usually, by then, his guardian has left and his tutor comes in, berating something or another about spells and history, none of which is interesting.

He snorts when they try to teach him about defense against the dark arts, painfully reminding them that he really is able to defend himself in any given situation just by concentrating to other people's happy thoughts (and if they're lucky enough, he won't demonstrate his ability). Usually, the tutors have handed in their resignations by their first week, but this one is particularly persistent.

He has mixed feelings about this one. She specializes in cats and kneazles, a squib and yet so devoted to magic it's almost like she's a full fledge witch. He is an anomaly, one that shouldn't exist really and he often wonders what was their purpose when they chose a nineteen year old witch to give up her life and make him (he loves his mother even though he never met her, loves her for giving up her love so he could be born and hates the Ministry for taking advantage of her thirst).

The clock on the wall finally reaches three and he's so glad when the woman closes her mouth and looks back at him. He makes pretend to take notes and in the end all that lingers on the paper are doodles. His guardian wouldn't approve, but he is a fifteen year old and really, what did you expect?

"Today's lesson went well." He snorts mentally, but nods his head and gives her a tight smile. He has been raised with the proper manners and his guardian wouldn't accept less. The man is the closest thing to a parent he's ever had, not at all phased by the danger just living with him represents. "Now, this is the last session before summer vacation, so have a nice one." She smiles, wrinkles on her forehead more evident and he tries to smiles back and not suck out every ounce of good within her.

This went well.

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He's pigging out, stuffing himself with peanut butter and jam sandwiches with a few slices of ham in it when he hears the 'pop' that usually means his tutor just arrived. He wipes his mouth, feeling extremely disgusted with himself and yet needing to have something in his stomach after spending a few hours not trying to suck dry someone.

It is very unpleasant, but much needed.

He waits for his tutor to come and find him, the two stories not big enough to hide and the light giving him away. He hears the footsteps echo on the old tiles and his ears pick up another set, one much more slow and almost indictable, but to him oh so loud. He puts down his snack on the white plate, sits down and chews thoughtfully.

"Harry." His tutor isn't one for much dialogue, except when teaching. He knew his mother, had grown up with her and remained friends throughout school until he'd heard about her pregnancy and her evident death (sometimes, recognition will flash in his dark eyes and there will be something keen to lost and sadness, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared).

Harry doesn't speak much either.

"You remember Albus Dumbledore." Headmaster of Hogwarts and all wizard legend, he's the one that is pictured in those chocolate frogs cards and in large boring books about history he has had to study. Put together with a few meetings and greetings and yes, he does remember the man – gets up in respect and doesn't shake the man's hand, it's not guaranteed that he can control himself that much.

"Now, Severus, let's not waste a minute and tell the boy the good news." He cocks his head to the side, regarding his tutor with a raised eyebrow in question. The man merely rolls his eyes and sits down next to his pupil, dark heavy black robes plopping down on the kitchen chair.

"The Ministry has agreed to let you attend Hogwarts in the fall." The news takes him by surprise, not expecting it. The option had never even presented itself in his mind, so it takes a minute to digest what his tutor just shot at him. He is glad yes, but never expected to walk within Hogwarts, even less to be allowed around other peers. He is a menace and has been ever since he was a child, too cold and always presumed dangerous. He could kill, even if it had never happened.

His tutor will be there, teaching potion and here the old headmaster (and here it is, he'll have a headmaster and teachers and even other students in his class, he isn't overjoyed and can't really feel happiness on his own) starts drawling out instructions about testing his capacity to be around others during the summer and how it is an honour to have him attend and his mother would be so proud. His tutor's face hasn't changed, but he guesses the man is relieved. He won't have to come back everyday to make sure he is alive and most of all, he'll be able to keep a close on him.

And Harry, well, he doesn't know what to feel. Dumbledore is babbling happily about the Ministry's request and expectations, another one of their experiments, and emotions have always been an odd thing for him. He is drawn by sorrows and drowning in people's happy memories, sucking in every last breathes of those until there is none.

It's a nice thingy feelings that spreads throughout his entire body, appeasing the ever coldness he feels eating away at his bones. He doesn't know what it is, the thought of finally being allowed to go farther than the tiny garden in the backyard brings out the most delectable and yet painful feeling he's ever felt. It's almost as if he's coming alive.

He notices the two men have grown a bit paler, if that's even possible. He's feeding on their warmth without realising and murmurs of a few apologies as he goes back to being his usual absent self. It doesn't do much good when he stops feeling so numb and empty, is reminded that it's probably why he doesn't see much people.

"Of course, there will be some arrangements to be made." Here, his tutor starts speaking in short sentences. Clear and precise, he tells the old man about a few things that are essential, about practicing being around hormonal teenagers who don't know how to control their emotions. Dumbledore nods and makes plans and it's like they've completely forgotten about just what happened a few seconds ago.

He just hopes that other people are as forgiving.

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**_Rather short prologue, sort of a beta test to see if my idea can be interesting and if people will want to read that. Helpless Harry/Luna shipper that I am, one story wasn't enough. Hope you enjoyed and do tell me what you think and if you would read this story. Thanks :)_**


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